Tuesday, December 27, 2005

We all had a lovely day, and I hope you folks did too. Sassy hasn't been feeling well, the poor thing. She woke up at about 6am on X-mas morning and then realized no one else was up and began to cry, meekly, mewling like a kitten in her bed...really, the Academy should be informed. She managed to wake up her sister and they both had some words back and forth;

Short-Stack: Mornieee hiyahiyahiyahiya! Ablabble boo. Five!

Sassy: Quiet Shortie, I'm sleeping.

Shortie: Blababa! ungh ba to DaDEE!

Sassy: Shhhhhh!

And so that went until the phrase "shut up!" was uttered and Shortie began to cry. "Making your sister cry on X-mas morning is naughty!" to which Shortie echoed "Nawtee!" but all forgotten when they went down to open presents. This year we went for quality, not quantity. We got them a few really nice presents and it went over very well. They played for about an hour before Sassy wandered upstairs and didn't come back...she went back to her bed! Poor thing. I made some bacon rolls for breakfast and got going on the turkey while Hubs kept Shortie busy. (so no pictures at this time...but I'll get some soon I promise. Sassy won't perform)

I don't think I'll bother with a turkey meal again. It's such a pain, and I don't even like turkey all that much. I'd ordered groceries delivered on the 22nd to give the bird time to thaw, but they didn't have anymore of the size I'd requested and sent me a bigger one instead...for three people (I'm honest, the girls would eat enough to make up one normal appetite.) so excesses already began. I followed this recipe and it came out really nice, I had rosemary growing like mad in the garden so I had to tiptoe through the frost barefoot; ok I could've put on shoes but thought I'd tough it out...until my wet, cold feet slipped on the kitchen floor and I nearly did the splits. But lunch went very well...even if Sassy was too ill to eat. We've got lots leftover. I'm looking up turkey recipes...Tonight will be a korma.

We went over to the in-laws house around 2pm, Sassy said she wanted to go so we let her. We stayed for a very busy, chattery, noisy two hours that by the end of *I* was exhausted. The only downer was when I went to make coffees for everyone and was set upon by the wicked sisters-in-law (they are both about five feet tall and the same wide, they are obese, grotesque and a caricature of wicked step-sisters) who were already in full combat mode of "Mom loves ME more!" and I managed to click the button on the kettle before they barged about wanting to help and rattled plates, cups and sntaching tins of cookies out of each other's hands, and then I left them to it...I know to keep out of it. A few minutes later they were arguing away when MIL came in asking where the coffees were as I was supposed to be making them...they made a couple snide remarks about me, which I heard as I was standing nearby; I laughed and went and told Hubs what happened.

When my MIL (who has been wonderful to me lately...but as is my flaw, I'm always waiting for the tide to turn) came through with the coffees, I apologized and explained...she understood, rolled her eyes at the bickering still going on in the kitchen and offered me cake.

Sassy didn't last long, so we were home by 5pm, small dinner, bathtimes and got Shortie off to bed. She was exhausted - her first real X-mas and it must have been a whirr of ripping paper, bright lights, presents, toys and food; Shortie tole me she wanted to go to bed "Nini *wave* bye dadee nini..." I stayed up with Sassy and we watched the new episode of Dr. Who with David Tennant, and he did an excellent job, I'm excited to see the rest of this series as the last one with Chris Eccleston was really good too. I had been dubious about Billie Piper, but she's proven herself capable.

Now...the weird thing. The past two nights, I've been having really vivid dreams about an old boyfriend. I don't know why, but this guy comes back in my dreams. He usually represents my anxieties, as in the dreams I'm feeling insecure in some way that forces me to put up bravado or lie. I feel I need to prove my life is fine without him, but in my dreams I betray myself by lying to achieve that. So for 11 years, that's been my occasional nightly torture...seeing him and thinking I've not gotten very far in my life since we split. Why is he a benchmark..well that's just too intimate to share with you folks and a girl has to keep some secrets.

So the other night the dream was me going back home, and the dreams are always a picking-up-where-we-left-off type where I'm in my old house, I'm still 20 years old, or if I am my current self, I'm transported back in time. And we were in Boston, raining awful night and he wants me to stay in with him, and I'm trying desperately to talk him into going out because there's no way I want to be alone with him - I don't trust myself. I had a friend with me (I don't know who, generic dream person of non-importance) but she bowed out and left us alone; the bitch. He talks me into staying, and he shows me this amazing bathroom with huge walk in shower and massaging water jets, and a bench; it was my dream bathroom (a lot of my dreams take place around the bathroom...wonder what that means?) things happen and I'm consumed with guilt. (He could always talk me into things I didn't want to do, nothing "dirty", but I had no will of my own with this man, and I found that quite exciting - which makes me feel guilt. Double edged sword?). Felt awful all day yesterday. In reality, I can say no to anyone, I have no fear of another's disappointment and it's quite difficult to manipulate me, but those were hard lessons learned.

Last night, he came back into my dreams. I was at my house, it had to be as it was in the early 80's as the bathroom was avacado green, (see, bathrooms again!) He was with me and the generic, faceless friend, trying to get us to hurry up so we could drive into the city. I was wanting to go, and just nervous that I was pretty enough, dressed alright ect, girl stuff, when I heard him loading up the car. He came in and used the toilet, and I really needed to go, but he got there first so I had to wait. My friend was flitting about and I was making sure I had everything I needed before we left. He came out of the bathroom smiling and I hurried in after him and shut the door.

When I turned to sit on the toilet, I gasped! He hadn't flushed the toilet and in there was the largest poop I'd ever seen, it was enormous. It peaked out over the top of the water and was almost level with the rim of the seat - I couldn't have sat without it touching me, which means he must have hovered to finish it off. I kept staring at it...it was full of rice, cranberries and; as I write this I think it's a Christmas dinner but California health food style *shakes head* anyways, I though about hovering over it and peeing, but I don't hover; yet if I flush it first, I may end up clogging the toilet until it overflows and having to clean up his shit which I was not about to do either. I just opened the door and left. He was bellowing outside for us to hurry up, I bumped into my friend and told her about the poop and we laughed!

I woke up feeling much better. Nothing makes you see someone as the human being they are like seeing their poop stopping up a toilet. He was just a man who was full of shit, and this dream showed me that. Thank you subconscious mind!!

Sunday, December 18, 2005

"So....there's a lead up to the question/request....I'm looking for the correct lattitude.

If one goes far enough North, after the first day of Summer, the days start to get shorter, and the arch of the sun through the sky gets shallower in each day. As we approach the first day of Winter, the arch gets very close the horizon, the days get very short, and..again if one is far enough North, there is a day when the arch of the sun does not break the horizon. I am looking for the lattitude where this occurs on or about the first day of Winter. If one goes too far North, I expect that this event occurs earlier than that. I'm searching the web at this moment, but not finding anything. I may send an e-mail to "ask an astronomer, or geographer, perhaps a sailor (seaman)"

Any ideas?

Thk,Lyvvie's Brother

Well...anyone got any ideas??

Remember the 21st is the shortest day of the year for we norther hemispere sorts. You lucky atipodeans have the longest day. so just think about it, we can now look forward to each day growing slightly brighter, unless you live in down under, where you'll soon be losing light and disappear into darkenss. I'm not jealous.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Our newest family member has finally arrived safe and sound all the way from Vancouver!! She came with immigration papers that were a wee bit worrying, but I think her new life in a calm family environment (yeah right!) will do wonders to curb her wild side. I can only imagine the dark past she she keeps close to her chest (along with "Two bullet wounds, one slug remaining in upper thorax that may have become electromagnetic in processing" so she's not allowed anywhere near the computer.) We will offer all the love and affection our family has to offer.

You can she was very happy to meet Short-Stack, and SS was over the moon about a new play mate!But the game got a little to rough...and tears were shed on both sides. They did hugs and make friends later.

We've named our monkey Ramona Borghese Chomp-Bouttom Monquee, or Mona for short. *shrug* She looks like a Ramona to us. She was very happy to help put our Christmas tree up, and the rest of the decorations too. />

Sassy is completely besotted with her and has covered her with kisses, cuddles and whispered secrets into her eager ears for hours!! Sassy even wanted to take her to bed with her, but I thought Mona should be allowed to wander free in the house (We hid the knives and locked the liquor cabinet.) so she could feel as comfortable as possible. She seems really interested with peeping into the windows of our neighbors and the stars in the sky.

We'll be taking her around for a tour of the area and will, of course, post more pictures!!

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Life is meandering along. Sassy-face has gone backwards into being a pain again. The kid only has two speeds; slow and stop. A half an hour to eat a bowl of rice crispies!! I was popping an aneurism, seriously. She just knows that lack of efficiency drives me insane, so she finds ways of being so circuitous!!

I've got my grocery shopping ordered for X-mas dinner, and it'll be here bright and early on the 22nd. My Mother-in-law is having a large gang sleep over at hers on X-mas eve and I took pity on her, can you imagine cooking two X-mas meals?? Hell. So I volunteered to make a huge lasagna for her and I'll make a large apple pie too; it'll be done in an hour, so no big deal.

For our X-mas meal I'm going to cook poussin (how cute to have one's own little bird on the plate!), roast potatoes (frozen ready made), stuffing balls, carrots, peas and brussels sprouts with chestnuts. Brussels sprouts in a X-mas must have veg, and I don't know why. We don't eat them any other time of the year because we hate them, but to not have them is a crime, or something and I must prepare them and choke them down. It's fucking tradition, dontchaknow!

I've had some excellent feedback on one of my short stories, and I've put it forward to a competition. Fingers crossed I'll win.

We watched a biography of Stuart Sutcliffe last night on TV. It was excellent! He was an original member of the Beatles who left the band just before they became super famous. He was a painter and photographer who fell in love with a German woman, Astrid, and went back to art college in Germany. He was so, incredibly, handsome! He could've made a living off his looks if the band never worked out - such a beautiful man. There had been rumours about he and John Lennon having an intimate relationship, but others say they were just the closest of friends. All kinds of gossip surround his death. The most shocking one, was that Stuart and John had had a row one night that came to blows, and john had kicked and punched Stuart in the head, but they soon forgave each other and the whole incident was never talked about again.

For a long time, Stuart had a brain hemorrhage that bled slowly, causing terrible pain and illness, but Doctors never could find out what was wrong with him. They even said it was "Artist's mentality", but it took the better part of a year to kill him. The rumours started that John had caused the injury during that fight. How horrible! I felt such pity for John Lennon (a guy I'd never been too interested in because he was a bit of a bore..In my opinion, don't hate me for saying it. I liked everyone else in the band so much better) can you imagine the guilt, and pain he must have lived with, always wondering if he had killed his best friend. He evidently had a mini-break down when he found out Stuart had died.

I felt so awful for him I started to cry. I never cry at TV shows...Okay that a lie (Anyone remember that church of JC and latter day saints where the old man is lonely and the wee kids bring him a pizza? I cried every time I saw it...damn latter day saints), I usually do, but I hate it. What a big puss I am, I mean both of them have been dead for years ! But, my emotions were already a bit raw because I was ignoring the fact yesterday was the five year anniversary of my Dad passing away. I was trying to make believe it didn't bother me anymore, I'd accepted it but I haven't. It still makes me cry to not have him see his grandchildren, or me. He was a nice guy, especially after a couple heart attacks softened his rough edges. Nothing makes you appreciate the important things in life like a stay in the cardiac care unit!

I'll be the same again I'm sure on the 22nd, Dad's birthday, but at least I'll have a huge lasagna and huge apple pie to bake to take my mind off it.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Sorry for the quiet, but things are going well. Predictable, dull and trouble free. I've got nothing much to say these days. The kids are being really well behaved (Sassy just earned her 25 meter swimming badge) and I spend a lot of my time reading or curled up on the sofa with a hot cup of tea. I dance with Short-Stack and build towers with blocks, I cook vegan recipes to see what she likes. I write the occasional short story, help Sassy with her homework and do my chores. I practice writing Japanese characters on the refrigerator but I have no real clue what they mean; I hope one day I'll figure it out. It's like when a kid learns the Alphabet song - it's just a bunch of sounds put to a tune but one day you figure out those sounds mean something more. One day it'll make sense and when it does, I'll be annoying every Japanese tourist I happen by.

Christmas is bought and just needs wrapped, but still waiting to decorate the house. I'm going to buy a dinky-wee tree for putting on the table and not bother with a huge tree. Sew a couple ornaments with Sassy, maybe bake some cookies. Life will be good.

I did go and see the Dr. about the blahs, just in case it was thyroid thing or something else. He said I had sub-syndromal Seasonal Affective Disorder. I asked him if really, there was nothing wrong with me but he just wanted to slap a label on me so I'd feel better. He just smiled. I'm not depressed, I keep telling folks this. Why is it if you're not jumping around jolly and spry you may be depressed. I'm content, if a bit lazy but that runs in my family. I told the Dr. I disagreed with him, thanked him for his time and the tests and left.

I really find the need for people to have "something" annoying. As if you are a nobody unless you have some ailment. Do we all know someone who has a string of ills that they must inform us (and undoubtedly everyone else they come in contact with) about in a begging for pity manner? I have a sister in law who has for many years, come up with a new ailment every year ranging from cystitis, depression, backache, circulation trouble blah blah blah when in reality she's just fat and incredibly, unbearably fucking lazy. She gathers dust with her immobility. She's also the sort to create elaborate lies so you feel pity for her "Awwww...poor wee thing, she has it so tough." Poop. She's just a nut and she chooses to live in poverty because she's too lazy to get a job. Anyways, that's a rant for another day...It's just I had to spend time with the fat cow over the weekend and she has a lasting black fog effect, and I'll have to see her again in a couple weeks' time. I'm hoping she'll call it off and claim her kids are sick (They are always "sick" but again, she gets so much attention for it I don't think those kids are as sick as she claims. They are always rosy, bouncy and proper rowdy herberts.) It's the type of bullshit I can't tolerate, because there are people out there who really do have illness and still live an exciting life, or have kids who are struggling but still fight for happiness...and there she is, the tart, lying about it for sympathy and a pat on the head. Makes me...well was going to say sick but...

Anyways, *I* am not sick. I am quite warm and fuzzy. Everyone here is glowing with health and life and we are all full of love, and excitement for the holidays coming our way. I pray you are all the same.

Friday, November 25, 2005

It's snowing. It's been snowing since 8:45 this morning. It's not accumulating, but gathering about two inches of slush. I don't have a shovel...it's never snowed enough to warrant one, but I wish I had one now. I tried to use the stiff bristled broom to sweep the slush out of the driveways but that was just comedy.

There's a salt-grit drop up the road a ways, and I'll have to run out there sometime with a bucket to get enough grit for our patch of drive and sidewalk.

It's not snowed in November for the past 10 years, so this is all very interesting.

Good news though, we can get Bagdad Cafe free in the newspaper tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

I'm officially the new proud owner of a cold. It's an achey, stuffy-headed, feverish cold that makes me feel just ill enough to be cranky and lazy, but not ill enough to not do my chores. I'm thinking I may sell it on eBay, but I have no clue what to set it's price at because no one else is selling their colds right now. I guess I'll start with opening bid of a penny and see where it takes off. I'll have Sassy draw a picture of the cold and then maybe a wee story to go along with it, and then I'll sneeze on the picture and post it all away in a bubble-wrapped envelope with a slip of card so it won't fold.

Monday, November 21, 2005

I was doing some final bits of Christmas shopping at the crack of the starters pistol, 9:00, and had spent an angry amount of money. I was starting to get a bit freaked out by the crowds just after lunchtime and was headed on my way home. I walked by a table in the middle of the mall that was covered in pillows. The annoying salespeople were wandering around cuddling and petting these pillows, obviously demonstrating how an adult will look lavishing affection on a pillow. Some pillows were plainly covered, and some were in the shape of Barbapapas.

I've not seen the Barbapapas since I was six and it was the only thing on at 5:30 in the morning on Sunday besides Davy and Goliath (the dog always bugged me..."But DAAaaaAaAAavvvYYYYY that's wrong!!") well, and Jabberwocky, but it was in Spanish. For years I had convinced myself that I'd never really seen the Barbapapas because I've not seen/heard of them for over 25 years. But now, some daft woman was snuggling one openly in the middle of the mall!

Sunday, November 20, 2005

The time has come for Short-Stack to be moved from the crib to a bed. She had five months in her cradle before she outgrew it, and now, she's broken the crib with excessive shaking. She's usually really good about her cotbed (except for the waking in the night as I grumbled about previously) but it's six years old and spent a year in storage. While in storage the wood's gone through a few expands/contracts and now the wooden dowels that hold it together have shrunk and the front facing side gate has been pushed off. Now, of course we could just wood glue it all together, but I'm a firm believer in signs and this is just a sign that she's ready for a bed. We converted the cot to a bed last night and she spent her first night with a bit of freedom.

I expected her to be a bit excited, and I wasn't wrong. We spent a half an hour of quiet play in her room, and tidied up the toys and random laundry off the floor (Sassy's very bad habit is to take her clothed off, swing them around and fling them. I hate it!) and then a couple of bedtime themed stories before laying her down and pulling the blankets up with a kiss goodnight.

I started with the "Rapid Return" technique (Which I learned about while watching Dr. Tanya Byron's "House of Tiny Tearaways" but cannot find a link to share; but basicly, you return them rapidly to bed, pull up the blankets and leave them right away - no talking, eye-contact or extra attention of any kind) which I soon realized was a great game for Short-Stack, because as soon as she'd see me across the hall she'd run back to her bed and giggle. I did this about 60 times! Fourty-five minutes later, she was showing signs of being sleepy and getting quite cranky; this wasn't so much fun anymore. I then sat on the floor next to her bed and, very bored, boring and dull-like, put her back in the bed, and ignored any whining. I just pat her gently on the back and occasionally "shhh-shhh"ed her. It took a full hour to get her to sleep; I'm psyched!! I expected it to take much longer.

I'm please to say she slept through the whole night! She didn't fall out of her bed (I'd put a pillow down on the floor just in case) and when she woke up this morning at six o'clock (so ten hours straight sleep; not too bad), she stayed in her bed and just talked happily to herself until I came in to get her.

I'm so proud!

I expect to go through the Rapid Return/bedsitting routine for about a week until the bed loses it's novelty and she figures out it's no big deal (even though it really is!) and going to sleep is nice again. I'm going to treat myself to something new for being a successful Mom.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Yep, still got them. Don't care either. I'm just doing my thing, getting the job done and sitting back and relaxing. The blahs have such a calming effect, because I can't be bothered to get all het up about anything.

I'm enjoying this as a thinking phase; I'm thinking about stuff. I'm talking a lot in my head, and wondering a lot of "what if" scenarios. It's mildly entertaining.

Last night was a brilliant, cold and clear night; the stars were amazing! We could see Mars and Capella (my favourite star ever; it's so twinkling! Capella means "she-goat" which suits me as a Capricorn) and so much, but I began to curse the streetlights, we are abused by them in my neck of the world. There is a brilliant orange streetlight less than every 100 feet. The light pollution is astonishing. I was begging for a power cut, which just about never happens. I began thinking about how much money it costs to run one these streetlights. It must be a staggering sum. What would happen if the council (local government) turned off every other streetlight? I don't think it would compromise road safety in any way, I mean, cars do have headlights. What about the visibility of pedestrians and their safety? Well, how much would it cost to issue reflective tape to every home, or to give every household one of these flashlights that use no batteries but run off a hand crank. How much money would that save? Hell issue two to every household, but really; smart people don't walk in the dark alone...not unless they have a big vicious dog or something equally protective.

So I was thinking of calling up the council to be a pest about this...but have the blahs so will just think about for now.

Yesterday Sassy's school had a special dress-up day for the school for charity, where they were to dress like what they wanted to be when they grew up. Those who chose to dress up were to bring a small donation to the Earthquake fund. We talked about it for a few days, what would Sassy like to be when she grew up. Some of the jobs were; Spiderman, Sea Dragon, student and a skeleton. I said a definite no to the skeleton because I thought it was a bad omen to announce would grow to be a dead person. Sassy has a real love for China and she has a satin Manadrin styled top with silk flowers embroidered on it (a gift from her soppy sweet Daddy) I said she could wear that and tell her teacher she was an Ambassador to China. I explained the job and she thought it was the best job she'd ever of.

So, she was the Ambassador yesterday. She was a little disappointed to see other kids came to school with Halloween costumes on; lots of spidermen, batmen and a couple Darth Vaders. Even a few kids came to school in their pajamas; I mean, what the hell are they saying they're going to be when they grow up?! (Hubs answered a Housewife and got a couple bruises for his Sass) I told her that they had parents with little imagination and were too dim to follow the rules. I'm such a narc about such things, I mean if I'm going to go full putting all this effort, even with the Blahs, then surely they can too...(I'm going to be a dark lord of the universe and murder millions for my master) Darth Vader indeed.

Short Stack is suffering with a very annoying bout of brattiness. She's having temper tantrums all the time. During the day I can manage, she's easy to distract with something shiny, but nighttime she's killing me. She keeps waking up around midnight and wants to play, and gets her knickers in a twist when I insist on her going back to sleep. Last night was two hours of sad whinnying and snot-drooling on her pillow. She lays there, pacifier in mouth, clutching soft doggy toy, warm under her blankets and when she begins to nod off "Whiiiiiinnn....Whhiiiinnnnnnnn..." At a pitch that makes your ears ring. I had to get out of my warm bed, let Sassy take my spot so she could sleep and then I was on the computer playing a Harry Potter MUD doing the "Controlled Crying" routine. Fucking sucks donkey balls: I want my sleep. And, the thing that really bugs me is she loves to have her nap and never cries about being put to bed at night, often she decides it's bedtime and climbs up the stairs herself saying "Nigh-nigh" to everyone. She'll wake up in the morning all happy in her bed and play or sing to herself, but this middle of the night problem has bothered us since...always. I mean, of course as a wee baby it was accepted, but by six months old I expected her to sleep through the night. I stopped breast feeding to encourage her to sleep better; she was ten months old and eating plenty to satisfy her hunger during the day. She's got a comfort suck pattern that she wouldn't outgrow.

At 18 months, it's getting damn annoying, and she's almost ready to move into a bed, what am I going to do with a late night waker who has some freedom to wander??

So...blah. Sleep deprived Mom seeks coffee and cake. I can't even be bothered to do a HNT pic today; besides, I ran out of duct tape so my idea won't work.

In case I don't have the energy to post tomorrow...have a nice weekend everyone. *Wave*

***(12:30) I may dye my hair red again...haven't decided.

***(12:56) Do they have a name for when your hand goes cold from clutching the computer mouse too long? My right hand is now a frozen claw.

Monday, November 14, 2005

I'm not feeling very inspired these days, I may used up my monthly quota on the picture. I don't even want to pay attention to people, television, radio or (Lord help me) my family. But they intrude and I comply. The house needs cleaned and I think "Blah", the kids want to play and I think "Blah", I feel hungry and think "Blah" I have the Blahs.

I do still have my sense of humor. While just this morning, Sassy-Face woke up bright as a spark and full of a good mood, which makes a change. I asked her what she wanted for breakfast...

Sassy: Pizza!

I say nothing and walk into the kitchen. She stays in the other room and shouts at me through the wall.

Sassy: Dis is not a Pizza. Dis (She picks up the two slices of toast and squishes them together) is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Thanks Mum!

Is it wrong to give a kid a PB&J for breakfast? I mean as two slices of toast it didn't seem so bad, but I now feel like a neglectful mother for giving her a toasted PB&J to start her morning. *shrug* Blah.

I also have a blue-bottle fly in the house...why aren't these things dead yet? It's cold, they should all have expired. We had a wasp in the house on Saturday..I mean really, they definitely should all have died in their paper nests by now. I figured the fly would go out a window or something but by bedtime, there he was, cleaning himself on the television while we watched The 10th Kingdom on DVD. I tried to swat it, but lost interest after a while. I did manage to lock it in the kitchen so we could watch the rest of the DVD.

I made the Hubs lunch for work, homemade soup and some snacks, and I then ladled the rest of the soup (ham, lentil and veg) into a container for the frige. At bedtime I had a thought; and don't you hate it when just as you cozy warm under the blankets some thoughts rudely intrude; I thought "I hope the fly didn't land in that pot of soup. I hope I didn't put that fly into the thermos for Hub's lunch or the container for the frige..." nothing to be done for it but pray, Blah.

Have no fear, the fly was buzzing about when I got up to feed the kids this morning (Pizza indeed), but this meant I had to have words with the Kitchen Spider. The fly must have been there all night, and the Spider didn't catch him; very disappointing. I'm sure you have a look on your face, I'm used to it by now, but yes, I keep a Spider in my kitchen. I tend to get a new one every six weeks or so because they don't live long. They are amazing creatures, but I hate them. This is a symbiotic relationship based on tolerance and a need. I need to have a bug free kitchen, he needs to eat bugs so it works for us. I hate fruit flies, green flies and those little black gnat things that seem to breed in the soil of house plants. They all make me sick, much worse than the Spider.

The Spiders are smart and keep off my counters, preferring the warm spot over the water tank which suits me fine because then I can always keep an eye on them up there. I do not have a fly problem with a Spider in the kitchen. I regularly tidy away cobwebs (and old spiders, bless them), which I think he likes because they lose their stick with my cooking and need replaced. I do warn people who come in my kitchen to not worry about the Spider, and when I explain they seem grossed out, but I know they're thinking "I might try that."

Anyways...The Spider didn't catch the blue-bottle fly and I'm going to have to sort him out myself now. The thought makes my stomach churn. Blah.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

I am the third to fall victim of the cold that steals the voice. The girls had and recovered but I'm now barking like a seal and mouthing half my words as my voice cuts out. It's not painful, which is a blessing, but I can't stop singing Lou Rawls songs now. I keep doing my impersonation of Alfalfa from the Little Rascals but no one here gets it; they weren't raised on these shows like I was (I miss you channel 56!!) and they just offer me fisherman's friend, which is awful, nasty, toxic death. Bleecht!

I'll just enjoy the sexy huskiness while it lasts. Everyone sing with me!!

" You'll never find, as long as you live Someone who loves you tender like I do You'll never find, no matter where you search Someone who cares about you the way I do

Whoa, I'm not braggin' on myself, baby But I'm the one who loves you And there's no one else, no-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh one else

You'll never find, it'll take the end of all time Someone to understand you like I do You'll never find the rhythm, the rhyme All the magic we shared, just us two

You'll never find another love like mine Someone who needs you like I do You'll never see what you've found in me You'll keep searching and searching your whole life through Whoa, I don't wish you no bad luck, baby But there's no ifs and buts or maybes

Let me tell you that you're gonna miss my lovin' Yes you will, baby (you're gonna miss my lovin') When I'm long gone I know, I know, I know that you are gonna miss..."

I first heard that song when I was four and I've never forgotten it. that and "Hey, If you happen to see the most beautiful girl in the world..." which may be the longest title for a song...I'll have to research. My first music was an 8-track tape of Peter, Paul and Mary... why am I telling you this?

I have begun to blog Ramble...oh NO!

I still really liked that song about the toy that went Whirrrr when it stood still. And thier version of Puff the Magic Dragon makes me cry, even today. Ok I'm off to get dinner ready; tonight we're having haggis, lamb and autumn veg stew! It's great.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

I've talked before about how much I love pens, and when I'm writing I need some particular kinds of pens to help me. I don't like being distracted by pens that gob ink all over the page or stain my palm as I drag my hand across the page. I prefer to handwrite in the brainstorming phase of a story because it's how I wrote when I was six, and it feels right for me. My all time, number one, coveted pen is thePilot g-tec-c4. It's an amazing pen. It's sometimes hard to hold because it's narrow and plastic so a bit slippery, but the ink is perfect, and it comes in an ultrafine point that you could inject yourself with...not that I've tried, but it's that sharp. I feel safe carrying it in my pocket while walking alone at night. Is that wrong?

It's notoriously hard to get. When I found this pen in the picture it was all alone in the store, and I'd been in several different shops trying to find one. I bought it (actually I nearly ran away without paying for it I was so excited.) and have been using for emergencies only; for really good feeling stories that have that give me a buzz when I start them. But look at it; it's getting low on ink. It's in the last quarter of it's life and I'm scared! What will happen if it runs out mid sentence? I'll have to start with a new pen and it won't match. It'll tarnish my words and throw my creativity out the window because I will focus on the day the pen ran dry! It's just going to hurt so much and I can't face it.

So, I was trawling the internet trying to find a shop that sells them in the UK, because I don't want to get ass whipped by the government wanting tax and customs fees and stuff. I was all gooey in the middle when I found a site called Cult Pens. You hear that, my favourite pen is a cult classic. And they have them in lots of colours...but I need blue. Must be blue. So i was about to order them up in a pretty dozen but I can't! I can't buy my wonderful pens until after December 2nd, and WHY do you ask? Well because the folks who run Cult Pens just got married and are on their honeymoon.

Monday, November 07, 2005

How can some folk give their kids names they know will cause them a lifetime a of taunts and shame? It's a cruelty no kid can escape from except to learn to become a black belt in some martial arts so they can properly deal with the ass kickings they'll attract for the rest of their days.

One of my favourite things to do is to watch the credits of movies. We started doing this when I was pregnant with Sassy-Face so we could try and find a nice or unusual name for her (We settle for nice over unusual and duh, her name's not really Sassy, ok.) but now we can't stop ourselves from reading out all the weird names. The names that stick out the most are the poor souls who are double named. These are your Daniel Daniels, John Johnsons and Peter Petersons. It lacks imagination and really is the lamest thing to do. I don't care if he's a Jr., third or whatever; it means it's a family bent on perpetuating foolishness yet I'm sure they feign pride.

There was a (small and much ridiculed) fashion in the UK not too long ago to name one's son after every member of a football team. So there's a few poor wee kids who need to have a seperate sheeet of paper in order to fill in thier name on application forms. Can you imagine going for a job interview and having to explain that although your parents are complete twats, and gave you eleven middle names, you are worth hiring for your resilience and ability to laugh at yourself.

I don't think girls fair much better. We have too many Asias, Indias, Chelseas and Brittanys. Did their parents just chuck a dart at a world map or spin a globe with their eyes shut and poke out a nome? Putting "Y"s to distinguish the name from it's original form or phonetic spelling like: Dyan, Maree , Jayne, Kaytee and my favourite Lyly, are also lame.

It becomes a game doesn't it. Can you decypher the name and guess the correct sex of the person in under five seconds? With so many Popular names being unisex it's quite hard to do. I challenge you with: Jordan, Dylan and Dion.

Folks say they do this, this unique naming, so thier child will be set apart from the rest of the kids. How can that happen with a classroom full of weird names? I think it's up to the child to set themselves apart, by having personality, ambition and a sense of humour, which they can only get from their parents. That's going to be hard with parents who run around trying to find kitchy ways to be interesting. It's also a big part of being a kid to belong, not to be singled out. They dress alike, talk alike and hang out in groups; they don't crave independance from their peers until late teens to early twenties, until then they like being clones.

I believe in simple names that are easy to spell and pronounce. If you have a name that's part of your culture then super, that's expected, but doing it just so folks say "Oooo ain't you clever naming the nipper Myanmar! No one else will have that...is it boy or a girl though?" well then, you're just a twat then aren't you.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Tonight is Guy Fawkes night. It's not an official holiday or anything, it's when everyone goes out and buys firework to remember the men who tried to blow up the house of Lords 300 years ago with 36 kegs of gunpowder. He was caught before setting it off. So instead, lots of people light bonfires and set off fireworks in tribute to the failed attempt. Funny folks the Brits, eh? It's going to sound like a war zone here for the next week. The vets will be dishing out tranqs like sweeties for all the shell-shocked canines.

So, everywhere is selling fireworks right now. We went shopping last night and in the entranceway to Asda (Our version of Walmart...well Walmart bought Asda and cloned themselves like invasion of the body-snatchers, but kept the Asda name, but really it's a Walmart) was this grand display of fireworks. The largest was this two-foot tall rocket. Have you ever seen a more phallic rocket in your life? Hubs nearly wet himself with laughter when he read it "Supa Come". Oh Yeah!!

There's some gender directed marketing for you.

"Supa Come - Shoot off like a Rocket!" (I'll bet there's a sex toy out there with the same tag line)

Happy Bonfire Night!

*** It's actually a Supa Comet but they placed the price tag right over the "T", but seriously, You agree a supa Come is so much better, right? Right.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

I have a super-cool idea for an HNT next week, but couldn't do it yet because the Hubs forgot to help me, so next week *giddy-jump* next week. You can just look at my eyes (some have seen this pic before but tough)For those who are fans of the TV show Little Britain "Look into my eyes and only my eyes yes look into my eyes and you are now asleep 123 sleep"

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

I've wasted too much time looking at these photos. We call them Chavcars, Jeremy Clarkson (I love this man, most people don't and they can fuck off. See his website.) calls them Carbage either way it's funny, amusing and downright painful all at once. (I warn you, the pictures of the Porche 911 will make you cry.)

I'm really tired lately. Short-Stack is sick now and Sassy-Face has lost her voice (Yay!) so life is fun.

I did, however, remember to say Rabbits Rabbits first thing yesterday morning, so fingers crossed, I'm in for some good luck this month. Thanks Kim!

Saturday, October 29, 2005

I read in this month's issue ofScarletthat the artist Kate Kretz (click the link to get more pictures) is going to auction this piece offon e-bay. I think it's fantastic!! I love the Happy Harvard Prick...we must pity him, buthe's happy and that'sall that matters.

I really wish I had thought of that. I don't know why but it sings to me. To be immortalised for your prick is just such a wonderful ....I don't know. Women have been objectified by their parts for ever, and this is the same but to men, and somemen think of their todgers as their souls so it's just...I just really like it. I may bid butthen having some strange men's dicks on my mantle would really freak out myMom...ooooh incentive!

Friday, October 28, 2005

Sassy still on school break and she's got a cold, a nasty one too, fever of 101.7 and all, but her appetite is there so it'll be fine with lots of TLC and Mommy's toast with honey and cinnamon...a tradition I hope she'll pass on to her sick kids one day because it's an awesome treat when feeling like crap.

We've sold our Fiat Punto. I decided driving a manual transmission totally sucks and refused to drive that frigging thing anymore. Really, what's the point. I know most folks find the control aspect very appealing but I prefer simple things and automatic cars are simple. So it's gone. We've bought a few things (essentials and necessities) and one big treat; a Nintendo Gamecube (on sale). Now, I'm fully aware that it's a dead platform, but as some of you are aware we've had naught but a Sega Dreamcast for a few years and have loved it dearly. It has lots of weird/interesting games (bought mostly on e-bay and a lot are only in Japanese which we have fun supplying our own subtitles to) and it has plenty of games for Sassy to play. We felt Playstation and X-box we're more grown-up and stupidly expensive as far as a game station goes. We can get Dreamcast games for peanuts. So the Cube is pretty cool and we got it as a combo package with some Donkey Kong bongo game which we've not played yet. We also got Super Mario Sunshine, Pikman, and Sonic Heroes. So we'll be having lots of fun...actually Hubs and Sassy are playing right now and I get to chat you cool folks.

Today is second nice day we've had in ages. Yesterday was the hottest recorded Oct 27th in history for the UK (about the mid 60's or 18ish) and today's been breezy and warm. So I've managed to get four loads of laundry done (been piling up with the rain as I can only wash two loads and dry one with my washing/tumble dryer combination machine. I usually end up with clothes drying over every door and covering the radiators) and hung out on the washing line. We've had a couple passing showers and I've managed to run out and save the clothes before they got soaked again while giving a sly middle finger to Mother Nature. I don't think she's caught me yet.

So, I'm off to re work my short story a bit so it'll have one version at 3000 words and another at 1500 words so I can enter it into different competitions. I'm really, really looking forward to Monday coming.

Monday, October 24, 2005

We moved into our current (and hopefully last) house two and a half years ago. It's a great wee neighborhood, quiet, seaside and as it's nowhere near a pub we don't have to step over vomit on our way to work or school; yes that was an issue with our flat in Edinburgh but a price you pay for being a mile within city center.

I still feel we're in a state of unpacking, but we aren't. The house is set, for now until I get my old cravings for space and the house is expanded and remodeled, but all in good time. One funny thing about the new home is that, somewhere in my bedroom is an alarm clock that I can't find. That may not sound too unusual except the alarm goes off, without fail, at 8:11am everyday and has done everyday since we moved in.

It's playing a game with me you see, sometimes it just beeps once, other times it beeps off for thirty seconds. Mostly it gives a few beeps and stops. I used to run around the room trying to find it while it's beeping, I could narrow it down to a particular section before it would stop and I'd give up, ready to hunt again another day. On those one beep days, that's when I knew it was a game and not one I was going to win anytime soon. I've prayed for it's battery to die many times, but it just keeps on going. If I ever do find it, I'll have to get another one because it keeps very precise time. I've learned to accept it's need for secrecy now and have just had to learn to live with it. We live in symbiosis.

This morning it went off like always at 8:11am and I thought from next week it'll be going off at 7:11am when we "Fall Back" for daylight savings time. Since I have no clue where the clock is, I can't change it to Fall Back with the rest of them...well, if I found it I would turn the alarm off of course but you know what I mean. I did have a thought today that maybe it's not my clock at all, perhaps it was owned by the previous occupants and they left it here. Maybe it's all very Edgar Allen Poe and they got someone drunk before encasing them in the four inch wide cavity of the closet's plasterboard. There could be a decaying skeleton in there right now with a cheap casio alarm around it's bony wrist going off with a 10 year guaranteed battery life. There was a smell when we moved in now I think of it...okay that was caused by the idiot owners putting one of those plug-in air fresheners upside down and scalding the carpet with burnt oil. They weren't bright sparks the previous owners.

I was also thinking how much I really love daylight savings time and how it's a shame so many people complain about it. It's really depressing seeing stars at five in the afternoon, and that extra hour makes a difference. Ben Franklin was a great man, and I think it's one of his best ideas. Now I live in Scotland, where at this point in time we're losing four minutes of daylight each day, the contrast is dramatic. I've never gotten used to high Summer sunsets at 11:30pm and then sunrise again at 3:30am (blackout blinds are a must) and the opposite happens around Christmas time (perpetual electrical drain inevitable).

Sassy-Face is still on break, so we have cake baking to do, pumpkins to carve and other things I'm sure. It's been raining here for five days straight so we've been trapped indoors. I am starting to lose my mind.

This is the face that greets me each morning when I go to the bathroom. He's the most appreciative of audiences.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

I spent yesterday at my Mother-in-law's house with the kids. Sassy-Face is on school break for two weeks so I'm in mini-panic mode about what to do with her. I shouldn't really panic because I survived the Summer with it's 6 weeks of Sassy-saturation. MIL is a nice woman, don't get me wrong, but so set in her ways. She's the giver of advice and taker of none. That's not entirely true but Hubs's family are the sorts who don't trust someone elses advice, play nice and say thank you with every intention of ignoring what you just said. That is until about six months later when they say "You know, I tried what you suggsted and it worked, imagine that." I can be kind to them because they're family, but really it annoys the tits off me.

So it was all talk of baking, child raising and housework boring but pleasant in a not very deep way. Painless really. We went into Linlithgow and trawled through the charity shops for cheap toys and stuff. I got a super deal on this dance mat witout it's headset, but really who wants to hear the kid singing over all the noise of the mat anyways? Short-Stack loves it, and it entertains for about 20 minutes per use before they get bored with it. Not too bad for £3.50 I think.

I was able to borrow a few cooking books (MIL has her own library full but it is best to return her books within two weeks or suffer her and wrath, and it's not a 20p charge, let me tell ya.) and I got some ideas for vegan friendly cakes, which I tried this morning and it came out great! So Short-Stack can have some cake and not breakout in a hideous rash and claw her eyes out from the hives. I've eaten a lot of it too, (It's banana, apple and raisin spice cake) it's really good. I shared the recipe with MIL (as Father-in-law has egg allergy too) but the real shocker was; you don't need eggs to make a cake. Can you believe it, I couldn't believe it, you don't need to add the eggs, and it doesn't matter. I got some good ideas from the Vegan Society even though we're not vegans, we have milk and egg allergies to contend with and try and find ways for the kids to have a diet that makes them feel they aren't being deprived of anything. It's a good site when you can skim all the animal cruelty text and get to what your interested in (unless you are interested in that, then hey, go for it. I figure my choice to not eat animals will have no effect on whether the world eats them so screw it, I'm eating them.)

For your enjoyment, I'll also submit these pictures. I was working away on the computer and noticed, Short-Stack was quiet. Everyone with kids knows when they are quiet, trouble is not far behind. I called out her name and after a few moments, she began to make sad noises. I found her wedged behind the recliner and under the book shelf. I put the recliner here to stop her from tearing up the Hub's comic book collection (She loves to rip books, it's our secret bibliophile-family shame) and you can see she must have squeezed through a tight space to get in there, she sat down with her legs under the bookshelf and couldn't figure out how to stand back up. Yes she's crying a little but not really. It's a fake cry and she wasn't hurt so don't go thinking I'm cruel because rather than pull her free right away, I ran for the camera and snapped a couple pics of her first. She'll appreciate it when she's older.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

Well, I have a new bike. Not really new, it was liberated (for a small fee) from my Mother-in-law who bought it a few years ago but only rode it twice. After much height adjustment (she's 5' 2" and I'm 5' 8") and new helmet, fingerless gloves and tireflys, in case I fall off to much merriment and pointing, I was ready to give this bike a ride. That was about a month and a half ago. I've been getting gentle reminders from Hubs to ride the bike, and he'd watch the kids but I am She Who Is Full Of Excuses, he pulled out the heavy artillery; he got Sassy-Face to ask me if I'd ride my bike with her.

Sassy-Face has been without training wheels for a month now, and her confidence is soaring. I'm still a big chicken because, you see, I haven't been on a bike in 17 years. Funny how the time flies, eh? I was forever on my bike as a teenager, even though it had the dodgiest brakes going (no rear brakes, front only and even they were weak) and no helmet, I would ride from morning until night all over town covering miles and miles. I had pretty nice legs, let me tell you, but once I got my driver's license and POS Ford Tempo, the bike rusted away and eventually found its way to the trash heap (RIP). Seeing Sassy look up at me saying "Mommy, I'm really excited about you and me going riding our bikes together. Daddy's going to watch the Baby so it's just you and me. Isn't it great?" Yes, dear child, it is and how humbled am I?

So I got the helmet on, the gloves and it's daytime so I'll not see my tireflys flashing (But I got to see Sassy's last night and they're so cool!) but I smiled through my anxiety and off I went. That old saying about how you never forget how to ride a bike, well it's true, but the confidence I once had isn't there. I got a bit panicky going around sharp corners but after about 10 minutes and it all faded away. I felt great peddling away, with the ocean breeze and watching Sassy pedal on up ahead of me. It was wonderful, almost as good as I remember. Only problem was my assbones bouncing off the bike seat, I'd forgotten the pain of breaking in one's butt or developing ass callouses I'm not sure what happens, but there comes a time when the seat doesn't cause one to walk bowlegged.

So, I'm definitely going to ride the bike again, I needed the Sassy-Face manipulation technique to get me out there, because I was in serious denial about the actual existence of a bike in my garage that was for my use. Once I felt that breeze while coasting along the seawall, I was hooked. I was 17 again, briefly.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

As I mentioned earlier, I'm having issues with my left breast; it still thinks there's a baby to feed here and won't stop lactating. So I thought, why not nude her up and show the world. All in the spirit of HNT!

I used the camera on portrait and put the flash on. My nipple's pressed against the lens so it looks a bit like it's making a kissy mouth.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

For some reason my left breast has decided it still wants to feed the baby all by itself. I began lactating again after I stopped breastfeeding 6 months ago. What's going on here??

Stupid tit. Really, like it's going to compete with cheerios, chocolate and grapes! She doesn't need you any more, she's moved on, take my advice; do the same. Don't you know she's got teeth now! Stop making me ache and stop leaking in the shower will you. The right one has moved on, it's got this all figured out, but you just can't let it go, now can you. We're not going to feed any more babies, you're done. You did an excellent job for 18 months (that's combined, by the way. Eight months for Sassy-Face, ten months for Short-Stack), but now it's time to retire.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Something's going on my head, it's like pop pop pop with the ideas lately. I have to keep my notepad with me at all times. The most common phrase I utter is "I wonder if..." and there I go, I'm off and there's no coming back until the baby cries.

While suffering a bout of insomnia the other night, yeah I've got that for some reason too *shrug*, I was thinking. I hate that when it's wee small hours and you're due to wake up but oh no, the mind has a story to tell and it's crap. It's silly banal crap. So of course I'll share the silly banal crap with everyone because I'm that kind of girl.

Our radio signals have hit a distant planet. It's the planet oooOOOOooo (you sing this, like when something weird happens or you think you see a UFO in the night sky and you make that oooOOOOooo noise, or like the beginning of the Dr. Who music. ) It's a planet where everyone sings, it's their language, they sing and people who don't sing, or can't are considered horribly handicapped. It's their culture so save the critique for them ok. I mean if you've got a stutter, you're on government welfare for life. They hear our radio signal and think "What a poor, poor planet!!" because we don't sing when we talk. In fact, wait until the people of oooOOOOooo figure out we named their beautiful planet M274, I mean really! That's just pitiable.

I just had a vision of the leaders of planet oooOOOOooo coming to visit our planet and the leaders of our planet have to sing in order to effectively communicate Bush and Putin are doing a can-can and seriously trying to kick Chirac in the ass. Can Bush even sing?? I mean we could all be at the mercy of a man who's tone deaf. Or what if we don't sing and the alien leaders decide we are a pitiable place and must be put out of our collective misery. With a massive mother ship death ray ready to bear down upon us, that is until we are saved by Liza Minelli as she struts out in front of everyone, elbowing all the suits aside and blasts out Cabaret and melts the hearts of the aliens; literally. Is it any wonder I've begun to drink a bit more at night?

Friday, October 07, 2005

Over at Anti-Blogger's site he's got this thing about FFF that, until today, I was a bit too cautious about. I mean FFF means full exposure, and I'm not all that up front about being exposed. But that's ok. This isn't about me. It's about art and pride in one's heritage.

Today FFF is about "Others who are proud of their "country" and how do you incorporate Scotland into FFF, well c'mon...that's just too easy.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

I think I can be excused. Here's a navel offering of my belly-button. I've always liked it because:

1.) It's an inny. 2.) It's shaped like an arrow pointing up.

It is just begging to be pierced though, but I've been a big chicken for ages, mostly because I didn't want to have a huge pregnant belly with a button gem sticking out. As I'm not having any more babies, I may just go ahead and get it pierced. Why not. Sure thing. Maybe this weekend. We'll see.

If you want to know more about HNT, click the wee doohicky on the left that says Half-nekkid Thursday on it.

Please forgive the aimless ramblings. I will maybe, perhaps prepare a script next time? Does anyone else find the sound of their own voice really weird. I sound like a kid. This is for all of you folks who keep wondering what my accent must sound like. Say it with me now:

Had a pretty awful day yesterday. I think I mentioned the Baby was snotty and full of a cold, well it turned nasty yesterday and developed into asthma type attacks. Twice yesterday we took her up the Dr.s for a dose of Ventolin. She's so upset over the whole thing, and it's awful to watch her struggle to get her breath, get frustrated and cry which makes the whole problem even worse. She's also been prescribed steroids for a few days to help clear the airways. I wasn't told until the second visit that the steroids will make her hyper; which means any sleep I can get over the next five days I must cherish because it'll be few and infrequent. I was up with her until 1am last night. Large pot of coffee on the go this morning.

She is much better this morning. Still wheezing but not struggling and she's eaten something and drinking her milk which is a big improvement. Fingers crossed this was only a viral induced incident and not actual Asthma. Sassy-Face had a similar attack that had us taking her to the E.R. about two years ago and she recovered fine. She only needs the inhaler if she's spending time at my M-I-Law's house because they have four dogs that set her off. The only other problem she has is very little stamina; she runs out of puff really quickly. However, now that she's able to ride her bike that'll hopefully change.

I did try and audio post the day but the audio blogger thingie isn't working, or more like, I've not figured out how to use it properly. Not entirely my fault as Audioblogger doesn't have a list of instructions to follow, so I wasted the cost of an international call. I'll try it all again someday soon when I get over the severe disappointment. I'm at a stage where if anything goes wrong I glower and storm at the world "How fucking typical!! Just my luck!! Ain't' it always the fucking way!!" and other such gloominess which isn't like me at all. I'm a cheerful sort when everyone's healthy and not scaring the shit out of me and sending me to prayer for enough comfort to get to sleep for 5 hours. And toast. I've been running to the comfort of carbs as well which does my mood no good at all. I get extra ratty with too much sugar running in my blood. But damn it's so nice.

In other news, as I posted on the writing bog, I joined a writing group to get me back in motivation to write something. Before you start thinking I'm evil for leaving my poor sick child while I gallivant off to a writing group. The Hubs had taken the morning off work anyways so I could go. The Baby was in able and loving hands the whole time. Besides, the meeting was right next door to the Dr.s office so I'd be there in a flash if need be. Or actually, to finish writing something. I'm the current Queen of half-finished work. It's got 10 folks in it (the group, not my work), and I'm the youngest. There's one other guy who's probably about my age but I think he works for a newspaper and is a bit like Woody Allen, but quiet. So he's twitchy and can't sit still but says not-so-much, oh and he's kind of cute but in a never-no-way kind way. Someone to observe from afar and take notes on definitely. Follow link to my other blog for more on that.

Monday, October 03, 2005

I used to hate them as a kid because I had this overwhelming fear and loathing because I knew I would never be able to do a nice project because my parents would never help me. So usually I just never did it and put up with getting a half-hearted rant from the parents instead. Another vow of mine; my kids will never have to feel bad about school projects because I will always help them make the best project!

The last project was sock puppets of any sort and ours came out awesome! So awesome in fact they got pride of place in the main hallway for the whole school to see them! Actually...we've not had them back yet and I never posted an image of them finished. I'll have to chase them up. Those Sea Dragons can get up to all sort of mischief.

This project was for the kids to design and build their own musical instrument. How cool!! Recently we'd watched an episode of Arthur where all the kids became obsessed with clicking jar lid buttons, and we thought that would be a good instrument. Button lids of different sizes will make different sounds, and if that doesn't work, the kids can still use them as a drum.

Here's how it went:

I thought it turned out really well. Sassy had a great time painting and glueing. We did the initial painting as it was spraypaint and toxic smelly stuff. So much fun, let me tell ya! A couple of chopsticks for drum sticks and there ya go! We're very proud, can ya tell?

Friday, September 30, 2005

Geezer is one of my favourite bloggers, because he's just so damned funny, and I can tell from the way he writes (which is often a puzzle and requires a bit of thought, which I like) that he's a fast talker and he seems like a hyper sort.

While goofing about in Google's image catacombs (okay I was looking at porn) (no, not really but you were shocked for a wee second there weren't you. No, I was only reading porn) and I found this picture. I really hope Geezer likes it. I wish I had called it Geezers.gif instead of gayeric, but being Eric Estrada I went for that first. Damn my head and it's perfect hindsight!!

This was in a bag of family photos my Mom brought over with her. I'm guessing I wrote when I was about 10 or 11 as I mention Ben who's my youngest nephew and he was born in '82. When Mom showed me this I got all awwww, wasn't I sweet. Swifty asked Mom if she gave me the money, and Mom said yes, she probably had given it to me. I'll just say now that I know for a fact she didn't because in my whole life, never once did I get money to buy books at the Scholastic book Fair that came around. "All of these books are free at the library." I was told. I didn't correct her in front of Swifty (but now I wish I had.)

I will now promise to let Sassy-Face have at least one book at every Scholastic Book Fair.

But seriously, how cute. I'm waiting for the day I get my "I love you! can I have some money?" letter. By the way, buttons was my dog. I didn't name him, he came with the name from the shelter we adopted him from.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

My girls inherited my feet, which I inherited from my Mom and are the same as my Brother and Sister. We all have size ordered toes on the right foot, and pairs of two little toes with a lonely big toe on the left. Only the Baby has inherited the funny sticking-out second piggie from the Hubs's side of the family. Also, I think we must feed her too much spaghetti because she is distinctly orange compared to the rest of us.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

I called up the stairs to Sassy to say it was time to wake up and come down to breakfast. I heard her coming down the stairs in her usual theatrical way, one loud stomping step at a time. She came into view, stopped on the third step from the bottom, sighed very heavily and sat down, chin in her hands and looking very annoyed.

I asked her what the matter was, didn't she sleep well? And with a quavering voice, as if fighting back the tears she squeaked;

Sassy: "Mummy, my dreams are teasing me" she said with wide, sad eyes.

Me: "Oh dear sweetie, that's not very nice. Want to tell me what the dreams were?"

Sassy: "Well, it was Christmas and Easter at the same time. I woke up and at the end of my bed was a HOOG (huge) pile of presents and chocolates. Even a big chocolate bunny, Mummy."

Me: "Wow! That sounds super, I'd like to wake up and find that at the end of my bed."

Sassy: "Yeah, and I was opening the presents and there were all my favourite toys and I was just so happy, so excited...And then you yelled at me to wake up!"

Me: "Oh, honey, I'm sorry I had to ruin your dream, but it is time to wake up."

Sassy: "And I woke up for real and all my presents were gone. It's so unfair!

Me: It is, I agree. Poor darling. What do you want for breakfast?"

And the morning continued, but I really felt sorry for her. We've all had those last dreams, just before the alarm going off and it's so wonderful, how dare real life intrude! That night after the girls were fast asleep, I told Husband about Sassy's dream. He laughed and giggled, felt the same knowing remorse for her. He then told me a story about how something similar had happened to him when he was four.

He told me that Santa Claus had come in through his bedroom window and he had big bag with him. Santa told him that since he had been so good, he was bringing him a super special present; just for him. Now, he wasn't allowed to open it yet, he was told not to touch it. Santa put the present on a shelf right behind the headboard of the bed, told him again he wasn't to touch it, and then left.

Well, what would you do if you were a little boy with a super special present from Santa hiding behind your bed? You'd do what a young hubs did and peel back a corner of wrapping paper and peek; and he saw the most amazing toy in the world! It was the best thing and he was so excited. Just then his Mom came in told him to wake up;

Mom: "Come one now, I've told you several times to get out of bed, let's go!"

LilHubs: "grumble groan......"

He then shot up and looked for his present behind his headboard. There was a bag there, but it wasn't the same one in his dream. He put his hand out to open the bag and take a closer look...

Mom: "Now I just got finished telling you that I didn't want you to touch that bag! It's the cat's kitty litter for it's toilet tray and I don't want you playing with it so leave it alone! Please be a good boy and get up and ready for school."

It wasn't Santa after all. It was his Mom, putting kitty litter on the shelf (Why she put it there we don't know and he's going to ask this weekend) But isn't it cruel how the mind takes noises and bits of conversation and twists them around into something else? The radio alarm, the noisy cars outside, birds or anything really. Such a disappointment. I'm willing to bet he spent years, every so often, peeking behind his bed to try and find that elusive special present that Santa promised him. Hubs shared this story with Sassy as her bedtime story, and they now have this very special bond between them that'll last a lifetime.